Classic Poem

O God , thy moon is on the hills,
Thy stars are in the sky,
Thy Spirit this mortal vessel fills,
I feel the end is nigh;
Swift meteors flame across the north,
The golden planets wheel and sink,
Soon steps thy trumpet-angel forth
From Heaven's eternal brink;
Then peace illumes these warlike ways,
Christ's joyful chiliad has its birth,
A round of Eden's perfect days,
Thy kingdom comes upon the earth!

My eyes are dim, my hands are weak,
My soul is scarred with sin,
But day and night thy Word I seek,
That I a crown may win.
Cleanse thou and make my spirit pure
As are the spirits of thy saints;
Like them in bliss would I endure
When earthly body faints.
Far up on Heaven's resplendent height
I hear the circling cherubs sing,
As downward to this world of night
The New Jerusalem they bring!